I am the ******* son of Nero,
the sad product of licentiousness.
A fact about my life
that I should really mention less.

My mother was a famous Queen
or so it is that I am told.
Unable to acknowledge me,
to the slavers I was sold.

But pirates attacked our galley
a few miles out to sea.
Bold, daring, fearsome men,
their life appealed to me.

Plundering, fighting on a ship,
I loved the pirates life.
Until one day I floundered
and took me a beautiful wife.

She bore me two boys and a girl,
I gave them all my affection.
Mourning the loss of my childhood,
my severed parental connection.

The children grew and flew the nest,
so leaving just two alone.
Then the plague paid a visit,
my grief weighs heavy for my home.

So now I am just a humble poet,
Withdrawn and cold, but serene.
Throwing words at a paper audience,
waiting patient for the final scene.

Well, wait there a while longer,
this ******* is not quite done.
I am not so ready to die just now,
that epilogue is yet to come.

© Pagan Paul (19/04/17)

I, tired
synecdoches

For exhausted sadness.
I, fragmented animus,

(……….)Stilled air in a mutiny,
(……….)Sent afloat from mine eye.

I, aimless bounty
Missing bligh.

(……….)I, nimble crumbs,
(……….)Too mouldy and dry

To be scraped off the floor
Into bins, out of sight. I,

Too perilless,
Too stagnant

To die.
(I, tired)

To see you smile again
to play a game of
Chinese checkers
and then dominoes
watch wheel of fortune
to see who knows
the answer faster
then those *******
on the show.

To see your
scraggly face
half-grown beard
silent strong type
who smoked a pipe
who worked the campground
near the end of his life
just to make a little more money
and have something extra
to do at night

To go back to when
we three were traveling
together to New Salem
me the small skinny
child with tubes in his ears
and you two old farts
who took me there

Now I only see you two
in dreams.

Hard stone skin
is slightly glittering,
temperature shifting
seasonally,
a place full of friends,
and literary kin.

Carnegie classic
home to the fantastic
collection.

Stairs to the entrance
and a black bannister
on which I slide
even though I was told
so many times
not to.

A sanctuary
from the abuse
a gateway
that I used
to escape my isolation
and find myself
enlightened and amused

friendly fictions
books well bound
my little safe space
in a redneck town.

Soon it will change.
They are not tearing it down
but building a better building
near the outskirts of town

But to Sarah, Kathy
Karen, and Tammy
whether you know it or not
you are my family
and though things change
as they always will
this was my home.

I am human. A person.
That simple fact, a reason,
To be included in my inventory.
It’s a necessary part of my story.

I admit I childishly cheated as a kid
Of course, I lied about what I did.
I stole cigarettes from my aunts,
Smoked the instant I had the chance.

Naturally, there was *** to be had
And though called sinful, I was glad
To be among the very lucky few
Who didn’t wonder about it. We knew.

School over, I tried to avoid the draft
By enlisting in the air force. Daft.
That was in the days during the calm
When very few of us knew of Vietnam.

My feet were flat, somehow or another.
Asked if I'd drafted, “Maybe your mother!”
He said she would be called rather than I.
I’d never make a march fully packed, goodbye.

So, I started into living my life, aimlessly
Content to dodge the service blamelessly.
Rather than go to college, discouraged by Dad,
I made the best with the talents I already had.

I worked in clerical jobs, and organizing files
And grew bored with that after a long while.
I sang in nightclubs and in little theater
But never got my star ambitions together.

So, I learned to smoke *** and crash
In the pads of friends when out of cash.
I’d wash their dishes, and cook good food
And even sleep with them when in the mood.

I walked some picket lines and protested
And when evil laws got passed, contested.
I carried signs and worked odd jobs around;
Did casual income accrual that could be found.

I worked for years at a company for bucks,
Thinking permanent salary changes luck,
And it did because I finally bought a home
And stopped being a hippie on the roam.

I loved and lusted with the constant line
Of **** available hotties I could find
People who had time for a bit of fun.
And by then, I was the perfect one.

All this means, I had a normal acumen
For living life and being a human.
I make no apologies here, instead
Like a pony, I let myself have my head.